


hands together

by stuff_and_nonsense



Category: The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996)
Genre: Multi, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 17:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17047778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuff_and_nonsense/pseuds/stuff_and_nonsense
Summary: Quasimodo assumes that Esmeralda and Phoebus will want some space, but they don't want him to leave.





	hands together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lev_aarons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lev_aarons/gifts).



They left Paris, after the fires had been put out. Phoebus had lost his post, and Esmeralda had had enough of the place, and Quasi couldn’t go back up to the bell tower without feeling nauseous. So they joined up with some of Esmeralda’s people who were leaving town, and rode off for greener pastures.

A wagon was cleared out for them – just one, since that was all that could be spared. Quasi hated it at first. It was small and enclosed, after the open air of the bell tower, and only a thin curtain separated him from Esmeralda and Phoebus’s living space. He was sure it wouldn’t take long for them to get annoyed with having him around all the time, even if Esmeralda was good at hiding it. But none of the other people they traveled with were willing to room with him, and when he offered to sleep outside Esmeralda and Phoebus would have none of it.

It didn’t take long for him and Phoebus to be accepted. Esmeralda’s word in their favor went a long way, since everyone liked her, and her dancing brought in good money. But that would only take them so far – they had to make themselves useful too. For Phoebus, it seemed to come easily. He was good at driving off trouble, with his strong presence and skill with a sword. The blonde hair and native accent probably didn’t hurt either. He could put on a show as well, with tricks on horseback and flashy swordplay.

As for Quasi, the option of performing was brought up as well. He cringed at the thought – he’d had enough time on stage for a lifetime. But he’d do it, he told them, if it would help. Esmeralda shot that idea down immediately. She wouldn’t see him dragged out on display ever again. There was some grumbling, but it died down soon, after people started to realize how strong he was. He could pull stuck carts out of ditches, load boxes of supplies, and tie down panicking horses, and that made him a valuable person to keep around. 

He worried it wouldn’t be enough, and he was grateful to the people who’d taken him in, so he tried to help out in whatever other ways he could too. At first he was rebuffed or met with wariness when he offered to chop vegetables or patch torn clothes. But as everyone grew used to him, his help was accepted more and more often. He began to spend most of his time with the older women in the group, listening to them gossip as they worked. After a while he started carving again, making little figurines of animals or of the people he met. Some were sold, and some he gave as presents to his friends in the group. Once he was trusted, he watched the children sometimes too, or ran around with them in their games. Not quite as good for pent-up as climbing on the cathedral roof, but far less lonely. It was a good way to live.

The highlight, though, was when he could watch Esmeralda and Phoebus perform. Esmeralda’s dancing still struck him as powerfully as it had the first time. He would have been happy to watch her forever. When he couldn’t sleep, or he had a moment alone to daydream, he’d reply it in his mind, picture her whirling across the stage. It made him giddy to think he didn’t have to hoard the memory, or fight to hang on to every detail He’d be able to see her again and again, maybe for the rest of his life.

He found himself noticing Phoebus too, in the same way. When he tossed his sword in the air, or leapt off his horse, it wasn’t really so different from dancing. And any chance touch if he brushed against Quasimodo left a tingling impression in the same way Esmeralda’s touches did. It disoriented him at first – he’d never noticed another man in that way before. But then, he’d never noticed a woman in the way he did Esmeralda. How many people had there been to notice, really?

He ate dinner with them every night. Everyone ate together really, gathered around the fire, but they’d always make a point of finding him. He was still shy, at first. He’d spent so long only talking to the gargoyles that a whole conversation with real people, every night, was beyond him. But they’d both chat readily about the things they’d seen that day, throwing in little questions for him, and in less time than he would have thought possible he was joining in easily. 

Esmeralda confused him sometimes. She was affectionate, often touching him on the arm when they talked, or pecking him on the cheek to say good night. If they’d both been anyone else, he would have thought it was flirting. But that was impossible. She and Phoebus were in love. It was obvious to anyone who saw them. They lived together on their side of the wagon, kissed often, made quiet noises in the night when they thought Quasi was asleep. Phoebus was odd sometimes too, looked at him a little strangely or a little too long. Jealousy? Annoyance? That made no sense either. Probably Quasi was reading too much into it. He still wasn’t very good with people.

After they’d been traveling for a couple months, the wagon arrangements were reconfigured after a marriage, and a spot opened up in the wagon that housed most of the young single men. Quasimodo was trusted enough now that it was his if he wanted it.

He really should, he told himself. He was happy living with Esmeralda and Phoebus. Even now that he had plenty of other friends, he felt comfortable around them in a way he didn’t quite with the others. It was reassuring knowing there were there when he fell asleep at night. But no doubt they were eager for him to move out. However much they liked him, of course they would want privacy to do the things couples did. He’d let them know he was going to move out.

He brought it up just before bed, the day he’d been offered the spot. He could have said something earlier, but he’d been selfish. He wanted to spend one more night here with them.

The wagon, once too enclosed, felt homey now. The walls were bright with the bits of fabric Esmeralda had hung, and their possessions, mainly Phoebus’s socks, were scattered across the floor. Quasi looked around as he prepared his words. The curtain separating the two living spaces was pushed aside. Phoebus and Esmeralda sat on the edge of their bed as she teased him about the mess.

He did his best to keep his voice casual as he said “There’s a spot in the men’s wagon open now that Marcel’s moved out. I was thinking I’d move over to there.”

To his surprise, Esmeralda looked upset. “You want to?” she asked. Phoebus, too, looked a bit troubled.

Quasi shrugged. “It makes sense. Then you wouldn’t be stuck with me in here.”

“We’re not stuck with you!” Esmeralda protested. “You’re our friend. We like having you around.”

“I like it here too, of course,” said Quasi, “but – you’re, uh, together. Involved. With Phoebus I mean. Don’t you want some privacy?”

Esmeralda and Phoebus exchanged a look he couldn’t interpret. Phoebus cleared his throat. “Actually, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” he said. “We… er… Well. Esmeralda cares for you a great deal. You know that, right?”

Quasi nodded slowly. She’d made that much clear, in every kindness she’d shown him.

“And I – “ Phoebus continued. “I know we didn’t get on at first, but I consider you a great friend now too. And I’ve seen you lift an entire wagon off the ground, and, ah, sometimes a man notices these things, when someone is physically impressive, so- “

“What he’s trying to say,” Esmeralda cut in, “is that if you wanted to stay here, it wouldn't have to be me and Phoebus plus also you. It could be the three of us together.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Quasi said. He knew what it sounded like she was suggesting, but that couldn’t be right. He wasn’t very smart – he must be misinterpreting it.

Esmeralda stood. Slowly, she walked across the wagon, knelt down in front of him, and pressed her lips to his.

Quasi froze, almost too afraid to breathe, let alone touch her in return. The moment would burst like a soap bubble if he did anything to disturb it, he was sure. He’d wake up back in his tower, or tied up in the square, and everyone would laugh at him for being such a fool. He focused on the feeling of her mouth against his, trying to keep every detail for later, when he could replay it as a memory of a dream.

“That’s what I mean,” she said, when she’d pulled away. All the usual details of Quasi’s life – the dusty wood smell of the wagon, the scratch of his rough shirt – were still there, not faded into a rosy haze like they usually were in these dreams. He must still be awake then, somehow. 

“But, wh- what about Phoebus – “ he stammered. “I thought- “

“I’m right here,” Phoebus said. “If I minded, you’d know about it.” It was nearly as gentle as Esmeralda’s, still cautious about whether it was welcome, but a little scratchier from his stubble. Quasi wouldn’t have thought to imagine that – more evidence against this being a dream.

They both stood near him now, looking at him hopefully. “If you don’t want to – “ Esmeralda began.

“Of course I do!” he said quickly. He wouldn’t ever let her think she was uncared for. “How could I not? I just – “ He tried to organize his thoughts. This wasn’t a situation he could have expected, or had any idea how to deal with. The world once again had decided to give him so much more than he’d been told he could have.

“Is it – wrong?” he asked. It must be; there had to be a catch. 

“You were told a lot of things were wrong,” said Esmeralda. “A lot of good and harmless things.”

That was a fair point. So many of the beautiful things in the world had been forbidden for no reason. Quasi was learning, slowly, to let go of that, to decide what was bad by looking at what harm it did. And if Esmeralda and Phoebus were both happy with this, then there seemed to be no harm at all.

He reached forward, took their hands in each of his, moved them towards each other. He’d done this once before, brought them together and then backed away. This time, as their hands met each other, Quasi didn’t let go.


End file.
